


To Maintain

by orphan_account



Series: Make It Happen [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Fluff, M/M, Minor Violence, minor gore, not as bad as it looks, one animal dies and i give a bit of an explanation as to how they prepare it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michael’s been haggling Ryan for weeks now to show him how to hunt properly now.“You know, with the trackin’ and the skinnin’ that you do,” he said one night at dinner. “These pussies can’t handle it, but me? I’m your guy, Ryan.”“Language,” Jack chided gently from the other room, which made Ryan smirk.“Fine,” Ryan said. “I’ll take you on.”
Relationships: Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones
Series: Make It Happen [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681399
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	To Maintain

“Winter’s coming,” Jack says one morning.

“What winter?” Geoff says, burrowing underneath a layer of blankets, enjoying a lazy morning. “We don’t get snow here.”

“No, not often, not like up north, but the leaves are changing. Which means we need to get the smokehouse ready.” Meant all the game would start to burrow into their dens or migrate further south. They have to catch them before that happens.

“Well, then put Ryan on it. He’s the go-to guy.”

“He’s probably already out there.”

Ryan is. He’s been showing Michael, Gavin, and Jeremy how to fletch arrows. It’s a required skill for hunting, but finicky. Gathering arrows after a hunt is how Ryan keeps his quiver full, but it’s not unexpected to lose one or two in the brush. Which is why Jeremy’s decided to dye the feathers needed for the arrows. Make it easier to find something that’s painted garishly bright orange and purple.

“I didn’t mind you dying the feathers,” Ryan says. “Just … why orange and purple?”

Jeremy looks at the feathers, all laid out before him drying in the sun. “Because that’s all the colours I could get when we were at the settlement?”

“Now, that’s a lie and you know it, Jeremy,” Gavin says.

Jeremy dips his fingers in the paint and flicks them at Gavin. He flounders back and falls off the stump.

“Come on, Ryan,” Michael says, stepping off with his bow and his own quiver. “Let’s leave the children to get at it.”

“No skin off my back.”

Ryan stands and follows Michael off the hill of their little house, leaving behind the two children play wrestling out front and the two parents in the house for in favour of the forest not far from home. Michael’s been haggling Ryan for weeks now to show him how to hunt properly now.

“You know, with the trackin’ and the skinnin’ that you do,” he said one night at dinner. “These pussies can’t handle it, but me? I’m your guy, Ryan.”

“Language,” Jack chided gently from the other room, which made Ryan smirk.

“Fine,” Ryan said. “I’ll take you on.”

And now he’s doing so. He could use the help in trying to feed them all for winter. He’ll likely won’t be hunting anything big until spring comes round and that’ll be weeks away.

“So what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever taken down?” Michael asks. He’s very much like an eager puppy getting to go for a walk. Always two steps in front of Ryan, frizzy hair being blown around by the wind. It looks ridiculously long on him, and Ryan is only the fonder for it.

“A buck,” Ryan says. “Five tines.”

“What’s?”

“The points on its antlers. Fine tines. Traded it in for a nice pair of boots.” He kicks up a leg for emphasis, and Michael smiles.

“Right. So how do we do this?”

“Well, we’ll be tracking today,” he says. “Which means we need to find a trail and stick to it. Once we catch wind of one, we move downwind and get a place with a clear shot.”

Michael bobs his head along. “Right. So. How do we do that?”

Ryan beckons him along into the forest. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

He explains to Michael how animals are likely to build their own paths and trails in the forest and how to spot them out. How to tell apart different types of fur. How a deer’s fur is likely to be higher up on the tree than a rabbit’s because, well, _size difference obviously._

“Look for fur, look for scat and try to determine how fresh it is. If the fur isn’t matted down yet, then they probably just passed through. Deer usually travel in a small herd. Mostly does and perhaps a buck. Bucks are either solitary or in a bachelor’s herd and since society has gone to hell in a hand basket, it’s no surprise that animal populations have reclaimed what’s theirs and increased in number. It’s easy to bag a fat doe who’s been packing on the weight since the turn into autumn.”

“How’d you learn all this?”

“Been on my own a while,” he says. “And I grew up in the sticks of Georgia. Hard to get away from that life when you’re growing up.”

When Ryan hears a twig snap, he holds up his hand, cuts off Michael’s progress. He gestures with his hand to get down, so they both crouch in the underbrush. Ryan scans the forest around them and spots it among the yet few green plants in the forest. A handful of deer, all does, scrounging for food on the forest floor.

Ryan shifts his stance a bit, neatly withdraws an arrow and notches it to the string. “You remember where to hit?” he whispers.

“Yep.” Michael moves a few paces down, keeping low to the ground and keeping his feet light. Once he has his arrow set against his string, pulling it back until his fingers brushed his cheek just as Ryan taught him.

Ryan focuses on his own sight. He straightens his posture, breathes in and out deeply, holds his breath and looses the arrow. It meets its mark and not a moment later so does Michael’s. Ryan’s deer struggles on for a few yards before succumbing while Michael’s shot was true.

“Right,” Ryan says. “Now comes the difficult part.”

It’s one thing to shoot a deer. It’s entirely another to drag it back up to the house and prepare it for smoking. They make back harnesses out of the rope coiled at Ryan’s hip and attach the deer so they’re hefted by their shoulders and still dragged upon the ground so they aren’t carrying all of the weight. It’s the best process they have and saves time from having to take breaks throughout their trek back if they were just to carry them slung across their shoulders.

“Now the messy part,” Ryan says.

Michael groans. “Wipe that creepy grin off your face, you creep.”

They use the tree out front of the house to prepare the deer for the smoke house. It’s far enough away so Gavin doesn’t turn green at the sight. Ryan gets out the knives and wracks they’ll use to hang the deer and drain them of the blood.

“Start on the belly,” Ryan says. “We slide the knife down from the neck and back. And then we peel it back, scrapping with the knife when we need to. And then the other side.”

The hide is useful for tanning and trading when it’s fine leather. Geoff doesn’t mind the leather process so long as all the blood and gore has been removed from it.

“Right,” Ryan says. “And now the innards.”

“I can see why you’re the only one who does this,” Michael says. Both have shed their coats for the time being. “This is … unpleasant.”

Ryan laughs lightly. “Jack can do it. I just think he likes not having to deal with the mess afterwards.”

Once the gore has been dealt with, they fix the hind legs of the deer to the racks and tie them up to the trees for the blood to drain. And at that point both are ravenous and in needing of a break.

They splash clear of the gore around back of the house and take up lying on the porch in the strong autumn sun.

“I can see why you like it,” Michael says. “It’s good work.”

“Gets me out of the house. Away from you guys for a little while.”

Michael nudges him in retaliation.

“Oh, you know I’m kidding. Thanks for coming out with me. It’s nice to have someone with me.”

Michael reaches out and pats around for his hand, holds it, squeezes it. “You’re all right, Ryan.”

“That’s an odd way of saying I love you.”

“You’re such a git.”

“Mm, but you still love me.” Ryan turns his head towards Michael and Michael gives him an exasperated look.

“I’d kiss you quiet, but not until I had a bath.”

“I’m holding you to that.”


End file.
